


On an Angel's Wings

by angelswatchingover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural) Feels, Pillow Talk, s14e16 Don't Go Into the Woods, s14e16 prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelswatchingover/pseuds/angelswatchingover
Summary: Castiel needs to get out of the bunker for a bit. Angels weren't meant to live underground.This is a little fic that fills in the conversation that Dean and Cas had leading up to the beginning of the "Don't go into the Woods" episode.





	On an Angel's Wings

Castiel lies relaxed against a pillow propped on the headboard, listening to Dean softly snoring at his side. The hunter’s mind is quiet in sleep, relaxed, and all his own now that Michael is gone. Castiel can’t dream walk anymore or feel Dean’s mind as strongly as he used to, his powers greatly waned and damaged over the years. But when Dean is asleep with his guard down, he is able to at least enjoy the sense of peace that Dean now feels with Jack alive and healthy, Sam recovering from the loss of their hunter friends, and Castiel here in the bunker with him. Castiel made his choice. He chose the Winchesters over his angel family, over his mission, over his father and he doesn’t regret it for a moment.

Especially in moments like these with Dean soft and warm against his side. It’s so beautiful it would almost be worth it to -

He feels the hunter stir, coming out of his sleep state and smiles to himself as Dean rolls to his side and snakes his arm across Castiel’s middle. He nuzzles into Castiel’s arm until he lifts it so Dean can rest his head on his shoulder.

“Mornin’,” Dean mumbles as he places as soft kiss to Castiel’s neck.

“Good morning, Dean,” he answers with a returning kiss to Dean’s forehead.

It’s lovely, what they’ve finally figured out between them. This is still new, spending most every night in Dean’s bed, reading or watching TV as the hunter sleeps next to him. It has taken years to get to this point, with a decade of ups and downs, hits and misses, and back and forth between them. Years ago, during the apocalypse that wasn’t, it all started. But back then it was an occasional fuck, usually after a hunt when Dean just needed someone strong to make it all go away, a physical release of stress, energy, and adrenaline. Dean would block most feelings out, well, as much as he could from an angel who back then could pick up feelings and longing with his strong grace. It was hurried and neither of them stayed afterward. And over the years they seesawed between ignoring this thing between them and crashing back into each other after each death, near death, or possession. Castiel never thought it would go beyond that. 

But gradually things changed. Castiel was granted a second chance at life after Lucifer killed him. Dean managed to get Michael out of his mind. And Cas decided to stay. Since he has taken up residence in the bunker, he and Dean have felt more connected, permanent. Even when they are apart, they stay in touch, calling just to talk or text each other with little details of their lives. Dean doesn’t even seem to mind his use of emojis anymore. 

However, he is still a little angry at Dean for planning to use the Ma’Lek box without telling him. He understood what Dean told him later, that he just couldn’t bring himself to tell him or he’d probably never be able to do it. Maybe this sadness and anger is a good thing, it keeps Castiel from crossing that invisible line he has drawn in his heart that he knows he can’t cross. If he lets his guard down and lets himself be truly happy he knows this can all be torn from him in the blink of an eye and he’ll be thrown back into the empty, leaving Dean, and Sam and Jack forever. It’s for that reason, Castiel has made a decision. He has to leave the bunker, if for a short while because this thing between he and Dean, sometimes it gets too intense, too close to love and permanence and happiness, all things he knows he can’t allow himself. 

“I’m leaving,” he tells Dean with no preamble and feels the man beside him go from soft to rigid, sitting up as quick as his lightning fast reflexes let him.

“You’re what?” Dean growls.

Castiel looks at him and tilts his head, squinting while he takes in and processes Dean’s reaction. The hurt and confusion on his face reminds Castiel of how bad he still is at this sometimes.

“It’s not permanent, Dean,” he explains. “I just need… a break from being underground.” It’s not a total lie. The bunker does become a bit claustrophobic for him at times. Angels weren’t meant to live underground. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, a suspicious affect to his voice.

Castiel puts his hand over Deans, and the hunter lets him. “I mean that I’m an angel. I know my wings are broken now, but I was born with the stars, brought into creation as my father was forming this universe. We angels had a hand in bringing to life all of his creations with the light and elements of the stars. Being underground without windows, with processed air and artificial light… sometimes I just need a break from it.”

Dean blinks at him, processing his words for a moment before he nods and turns his hand over to interlace their fingers.

“I get it, man. Forty years in the pits of hell? Needing a little sunlight is definitely something I get.”

“I promise I’ll be back. I want to be here… with you, with my family.”

And that gets a smile. Dean leans forward onto his free hand and his knees, crawling over Castiel, stopping a hair’s breath away from his lips before he whispers, “your family,” and goes in for a kiss. It’s sweet and sentimental and deepens when Dean puts his hand on his neck to tilt his head. They stay like that for several minutes, just slowly kissing and touching one another before Dean pulls back and repositions himself back in the crook of Castiel’s side, arm and leg draped over the angel protectively.

“Tell me,” he breathes contentedly.

“Tell you what?” Castiel asks.

“Tell me what it was like. I want to understand.”

Castiel thinks for a moment about how to share the experience of being a wavelength of celestial intent. It’s not something a human mind can truly comprehend so he decides to describe it as best he can.

“My wings, they aren’t like a birds wings that rely on air and lift to travel in the physical realm. My wings were almost like transmitters, used to collect and control photons and energy on a quantum level. For angel teleportation, our wings condense and convert the matter of our vessels into energy, which is transported beyond the speed of light using-“

“Blah, blah, blah, science gobbledygook, blah, blah,” Dean interrupts. “What a nerd. No, man, I don’t care how it works. Tell me how it felt.”

Oh, Castiel thinks and recalls his favorite memories.

“Well, I was created at the beginning of this universe, just after, as humans call it, the big bang. Before that it was just my father and the archangels and the Darkness. Once they captured and contained her, God created a new universe and all of the angels to protect it. I watched as nothing became everything with one touch. As the chaos of light and energy and elements began grouping together into swirling galaxies, we angels absorbed that early power, contained a bit of it into our wings and our grace. I remember my garrison forming and caring for the oceans when the first fish crawled out onto the shore.”

“Jesus,” Dean breathes, “sometimes I forget you’re old as fuck.”

Castiel chuckles, “Yes, I suppose I am, although I often still feel very inexperienced among humans.”

“Gonna tell you a secret, Cas, most humans are shit at humaning too. Everyone’s just white knuckling it through as best we can. You’re doing fine.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“So, old man, is that the kind of stuff you miss being down here in the bunker?”

Although Castiel would love to tell Dean that there is no time or place in this universe that he would rather be than exactly where he is at this moment with Dean in his arms, he stops himself. He knows he has to make this about being cooped up in the bunker and not about getting close enough to happiness that the entity from the Empty will tear it from his grip. No, even this close, he needs to keep a protective wall up to stay with Dean as long as possible. 

“I suppose. I used to like to fly to quiet places where I could think, the top of a mountain, or a secluded bench surrounded by spring flowers in a forest in Canada, or the peaceful heaven of one of the souls resting there. I would watch humans after a tragedy and see how they helped one another, strangers and family alike. And when I truly need to feel closer to my father, I would fly though the tail of a comet or watch a new star being born.”

Dean gets quiet for a little while, his free hand gently tracing nonsense patterns on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“So, uh,” Dean finally speaks up, “I know it’s not exactly riding a comet or perching on a mountaintop, but what if, when you get back, we set you up a spot on the roof? I was thinking a park bench, some plants, hell, maybe a beehive? I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but you wouldn’t have to leave and you could get away from me for a while with a space of our own up there.” Dean stiffens, “Uh, forget I mentioned it.”

Castiel stops him with a finger under his chin, lifting it gently so their eyes meet. 

“Dean, it’s a perfect idea. And I would never leave the bunker to get away from you.” He wants to say it. He wants to tell Dean how much he is in love with him and how being here with him would be the one thing that would make him truly happy. But he doesn’t. It’s almost like saying it out loud will make it true enough for the entity to hear. 

Dean smiles. “Then it’s settled. When you get back, we’re making a rooftop cabana.”

“A cabana, huh? Will there be drinks with little umbrellas?”

“Fuck no! Too Crowley-esque. But there’ll be beer, burgers, and pie.”

“I don’t eat, Dean. What’s in it for me?”

“Oh, I know what you’re willing to eat,” Dean says with a waggle of his eyebrows, “and this fine ass is definitely on the table.”

Castiel kisses him through a smile, “Then I’ll be sure to return within the week.”

“You better, man. And we’ll talk every day.”

“Of course.”

They spend another hour in bed, making out and sharing hand jobs, “for the road” as Dean says.

Dean kisses him soundly as he stands by the bedroom door, Castiel dressed again in his usual clothing and Dean in his robe. It’s with promises of being safe and calling that he says goodbye to Dean and heads up the stairs to the bunker’s garage. 

He rests his hands on the steering wheel for a long time before turning the engine over. It gets harder and harder to leave Dean’s side now that they are like this. He knows he’s playing with fire, dancing very close to the edge of the flame and it could be any minute that he gets just close enough to draw the attention of the Empty’s guardian who will take him away from Dean forever.

Castiel turns the engine over and pulls out of the garage, heading north towards that quiet woods in Canada where he will once again pray for the guidance of a father who isn’t listening from the secluded park bench surrounded by thawing snow and early spring flowers.


End file.
